


Safe Harbor

by kristen999



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Feelings, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 02:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16150241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristen999/pseuds/kristen999
Summary: Steve tests his limits for duty and country. Danny would prefer it if Steve realized he didn’t always have to. Coda to 9.01.





	Safe Harbor

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta reader Gaelicspirit for all your suggestions and for pointing out my continuity errors. :)
> 
> I haven't read anything related to this episode yet. I work on Saturdays, so I'm always a bit behind. But now I'm free!

***

Steve studied the first four names on the false intelligence report.

Leo Bernard: Paris  
Torres Cantor: Madrid  
Hugo Bartlett: Berlin  
Drew Goff: London

Closing his eyes, he pictured the letters, listened to the cadence of vowels and consonant sounds.

The door to his office opened and Danny strode inside and started pacing in front of his desk. 

“If I reiterate how dumb of a plan this is, will you consider other options?”

“What other options are those?”

“I don’t know. Surveillance, asking another intelligence agency to do all the risky dirty work.” Danny placed his hands on his hips. “Not doing this at all.”

Despite what people thought of him, Steve practiced conflict management. He rubbed at his bruised throat from the punch to his windpipe hours earlier. “What are you main concerns?”

“You being dunked into a sensory deprivation tank to be willfully brainwashed for starters.”

“You do realize there are two different SD tanks on the islands?” Steve turned his laptop over so the screen was visible from his Google search. “You can pay to float for up to two hours at a time. It’s considered relaxing.”

“Only you would consider having all your senses being deprived relaxing.”

“Some people even sleep in them overnight.”

Danny threw his arms out wide.“In ten inches of water. Not to mention, you can leave anytime you want.”

Leaning back in his chair, Steve considered the last few hours. Multiple homicides of CIA agents around the world. A rogue faction of the Chinese Defense Ministry on high alert because of what happened with Five-O and the Russians. 

“I see the wheels turning inside your head as you think up a dozen excuses to give me.”

Steve smiled. Danny could read him like a book. But confidence in one’s own abilities was not an excuse. “Half the training involved in becoming a SEAL is mental conditioning. Conducting complicated maneuvers with little food or sleep under constant stress. The only way an operator can swim ten miles and still retain the stamina to go on a mission is psychological fortitude.”

“I am well aware.”

“They teach it during SERE. Learning how to deal with captivity, isolation, torture—“

“When you were an active SEAL. Over ten years ago.”

Danny was protective. It was in his nature. And anyone who did anything to harm his family better stay out of his way. But Steve knew his own limits. 

“I know my body isn’t in the same peak condition when I was twenty-five. Or hell, thirty-five. But you don’t need to practice mental aptitude. It’s inherent.” Danny shot him an annoyed expression and Steve held up his hands. “Look, I’m not saying it won’t be hard. If this cocoon was used to break CIA operatives, then it obviously works. It’s the reason why I’m memorizing this list.”

“I _know_ why you’re doing this. And while I even agree with the reasons. It’s just….” Danny sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Why does it always have to be you?”

Danny’s world-weary tone, the way his face softened when he asked, made Steve’s chest tighten. Steve swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his aching throat. He thought about apologizing, but he knew it would sound insincere. So, he didn’t say anything at all and the heavy silence stretched between them. 

***

Walking around the shipping pier set his nerves on edge. Steve fought against his suspicion, but knowing he was supposed to be walking into a trap didn’t dampen years of ingrained instincts. His team was nearby, ready and waiting as his back-up. 

Danny was out there watching his back. 

This was the plan. That’s what he reminded himself when the guy attacked him from behind. 

While it was his intention to be captured, Steve still fought back. He would never go down without a fight.

The needle plunging into to side of his neck, however, was _not_ part of the plan. Nor was the fast-acting sedative that knocked him off his feet and sent his head spinning. And it was not part of the plan to see a familiar friend walk out from behind the shadows.

“You?”

Greer stood beside the person who had drugged him and for a fleeting moment, Steve felt something he rarely experienced. 

Panic.

***

His brain swam in chemicals. It felt eerily familiar. Like being drunk on cold meds with a horrible dose of paranoia. Steve hated it.

Being restrained was not something he enjoyed, but it was to be expected. The weird latex suit was unnerving. It covered his hands, all his fingers, all the way up to his chest. He couldn’t feel his skin beneath the thin layer.

A curl of unease filled his chest. If his skin was covered, then it would void him of any outside sensation. 

_Concentrate._

Leo Bernard: Paris  
Torres Cantor: Madrid  
Hugo Bartlett: Berlin  
Drew Goff: London

He focused on his would-be interrogator. One of the lab techs referred to him as Kang. Steve filed it away for later. He licked his lips; they were numb. 

Kang told him how the cocoon would re-set his brain like wiping a computer hard drive. 

Steve kept his face impassive. He knew this already. This was the plan.

The unplanned part of his mission began walking away. 

“Why? Are you doing this?”He couldn’t help the break in his voice, drugs having a biological effect despite his mental aptitude.

“Does it matter?” Greer asked.

Hell yes, it mattered. It mattered to Steve. It mattered how a freaking Naval Intelligence officer could be such a poor judge of character, over and over and over again.

Those thoughts circulated inside his head as one of the lab techs brought out a rubber mask with tubes running out the front—like a prop from a macabre workshop.

They were going to put it over his head. It didn’t have any holes for his ears or his eyes. The tubes would supply him with oxygen. 

A shiver went down his spine. This was the plan. This was the plan.

If he allowed even the tiniest bit of fear inside his head it would only grow stronger. The only way to combat fear was not give it any control. 

A man in lab coat walked toward Steve with a syringe. “This might sting a bit.”

Before Steve could say anything the man injected him at the same side of the neck as before. A burning sensation followed. Warmth began spreading across his chest, down his limbs. His face tingled and the lab blurred into hues of yellow and white.

“You just hang on to that feeling, Commander. It’ll be the last physical sensation you have for a long time.”

“I’m gonna arrest you,” Steve slurred.

“Sure you will.”

***

Something tacky covered his eyelids. His eye muscles twitched. Then the twitching moved across his eyebrows, toward his ears and down his to mouth.

Steve breathed through his mouth. He felt the exhalation of breath over his chin.

His wrist and ankles were restrained. Something kept them taut in four directions, fastening him in place. Trapping him.

He was in the water. A thirty-by-thirty tank, he remembered from his recon. He calculated the volume and depth in his head. 

Although he couldn’t feel the ebb and flow of buoyancy, he knew he was floating. Knew he was alive.

He exhaled heavily through his mouth again just to feel the movement of air over his chin.

Swallowing, he focused on the pain from his bruised larynx. Steve thought back to the fight he and Danny had against the Chinese spy who attacked them. Of taking a fist to his throat, collapsing to the floor unable to breathe. 

But he was breathing now. In and out. In and out.

He swallowed again, felt aching muscles stretch with the motion. 

His facial muscles twitched again. 

Steve scrunched up his forehead and clenched his jaw. 

Leo Bernard: Paris  
Torres Cantor: Madrid  
Hugo Bartlett: Berlin  
Drew Goff: London

***

He floated on nothing. Felt nothing.

He thought about the pool dimensions: Length 30meters. Width 30meters. Depth 1 meter to 2 meters (average 1.5 meters) Volume = 30 × 30 x 1.5 = 1,350 cubic meters. One cubic meter was equal to 1000 liters; therefore the volume was 1,350,000 liters.

Steve breathed in and out.

Sensory deprivation tanks were relaxing, therapeutic. Maybe if he allowed his thoughts to drift and his mind to relax. Maybe if he just slept….

No. _No._ He couldn’t give-up control.

What was the half-life of the sedative? Steve didn’t know what was he injected with and at what dose.

But this didn’t feel like a sedative. What was it? His thoughts drifted and floated and snapped back like rubber bands.

Nothing. He floated on nothing. 

Steve started counting backward from ten thousand.

Nine-thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine.

Nine-thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight.

***

Swimming. No _floating._ He was floating. 

He’d stopped counting somewhere around six-thousand and something. 

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

Danny?

Steve swore he could hear the blood pumping inside his ears. _Lub-dub-lub-dub._

Decreased blood pressure and heart rate was to be expected inside a sensory deprivation tank. 

_Lub-dub-lub-dub._

“Hey, whatever happens, whatever scary place that brain of yours sends you, I’ll have your back,” Danny told him. 

A smile spread across Steve’s lips. “I know you will.”

He felt Danny’s had squeeze Steve’s bicep, the warmth seeing into his skin. Comforting. Solid. 

_Lub-dub-lub-dub._

“You could change your mind, you know.” Danny reached over and touched the side of Steve’s face. “No one would think any less of you.”

Steve closed his eyes against the touch, of familiar fingers against his skin….

Darkness assailed his senses. 

He tried opening his eyes, tried to find Danny. 

Steve breathed through his mouth, short, rapid bursts of air. Don’t panic.

Leo Bernard: Paris  
Torres Cantor: Madrid  
Hugo Bartlett: Berlin  
Drew Goff: London

***

He shivered. His skin crawled with a sense of déjà vu.

Something…something bad was happening. His muscles tensed, ready to fight.

“You are a very stubborn man.”

Wo Fat stared down at him. 

Steve was out of the tank, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight. His arms and legs were restrained. 

“He’s dead, sir,” someone said.

No, Steve wasn’t dead. _Wo Fat_ was dead. He was very, very dead. Steve had put a bullet in his fucking brain.

Wo Fat regarded him like insect under a microscope. Humming under his breath, he picked up a scalpel and held it over Steve’s throat. “If Commander McGarrett is indeed dead, then he won’t mind if I make sure.”

Steve screamed.

**

Kang stared at him. Waiting. Steve was out of the tank. Wo Fat wasn’t here, but Greer and Kang were.

His flight and fight responses were in overdrive. Lights, sounds, odors, there was too much. Too bright, too loud, too overwhelming. His nerves fired on overdrive. 

He had to stick to the plan. 

The book. Steve had to tell him about the names in the book.

“Leo Bernard,” Steve began. “Paris.”

Kang shared a smile with Greer. 

But Greer was asleep in Steve’s bed as he wrote her a goodbye note.

“Keep going, Commander,” Kang instructed. 

“Torres Cantor. Assignment was in Madrid.”

The world shook. No, it didn’t shake. There was an explosion. 

Steve could move his eyelids. He licked his lips, felt his tongue over his skin. He curled his gloved fingers into a fist.

Escape and evade.

With a tug, he pulled his hands free. Muscle memory took over. He removed the restraints over his waist, his arms, his legs. Pulled off his gloves.

He moved on instinct. Ducking behind equipment, waiting on opportunity and means. 

Steve wasn’t sure about the layout of the place, didn’t know the number of enemy targets. 

It didn’t matter.

He threw one man into the wall. Grabbed an oxygen tank and slammed it against someone's skull. 

Everything was surreal. Like a filmstrip on fast-forward. He defended himself, punched people and broke their bones. 

Kang. 

He recognized the man holding a pair of surgical scissors up like a knife.

Steve dodged Kang’s attacks, using a metal tray as a shield, then swung it like a weapon. He tossed Kang over his shoulder. 

Endorphins flowed through his veins. It was kill or be killed.

Steve jumped over one of the control panels and leaped at Kang, sending them both through the window and into the water below.

Steve was back inside the tank. Only this time he was drowning. Choking. A cable was wrapped around his neck, pressed against his bruised throat, cut off the precious flow of air. 

Blackness spread across his vision. His lips and toes tingled from lack of oxygen. 

Then the pressure around abruptly lessened and the weight holding him down disappeared. Kang floated in the water with a bullet in his head. 

Steve breached the surface of the water and sucked in gulps of air. Choking, coughing, gasping, breathing.

Still grabbing hungrily for oxygen, he swam toward the end of the tank. Someone latched onto his arms, helping him over the side. Which was a good thing as he was shaking all over, adrenaline surging through him and escaping just as fast. 

“Steve?”

Body shaking, lungs spasming, Steve crawled away. Coughing, he slumped against the wall.

“Hey, are you okay?”

A familiar face looked down at him in concern. Steve knew him. Knew he represented safety. The man touched his leg.

“Are you okay?” 

Steve’s heart hammered inside his chest, his need to fight over whelming. The man touched his chin, forcing Steve’s head up. 

“Hey, look at me, look at me. You all right?”

Steve was safe. 

His chest heaved as he tried to evening out his breathing. Too bright. Everything was still too bright, but the man in front of him was calming. 

“What’s my name, huh? What’s my name?”

“Danny.” It was Danny. 

And everything slammed back into Steve’s conscious. The mission, the plan. Danny.

“Good, good,” Danny said, sounding worried. He still stared at Steve in fear.“ How long have we’ve known each other?”

Steve didn’t want to scare Danny anymore. “Fifty years.”

“Fifty—that’s not funny.”

Steve could breathe again. He was on the floor. Solid ground. And Danny was asking him questions to determine cogitative ability. 

“Feels like fifty years,” Steve said, relief replacing his alarm. He spat water out of his mouth. 

“That’s not funny.” Danny still rested his hand on Steve’s leg. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“It’s going to take more than little brain scrub to make me forget you, pal. Okay?”

Danny nodded his head, perturbed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“You didn’t say it with any type of affection toward me.”

Steve tried bantering like usual, but it fell flat. Danny sat beside Steve, angry and frustrated. 

Danny was pissed and Steve had caused it. Steve hadn’t meant to. Except his body was shaking inside and it took everything to remain still. Humor and sarcasm felt real. Made things normal between them. 

But this wasn't the time of place for that. Not when Danny has been so obviously afraid. Steve had almost died. Using humor hadn’t been the best option. It was poor timing. 

Steve knew he’d made the wrong choice. He wrung his hands. “Hey, thank you. Come on, I love you.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Junior and Lou and Tani arrived, all four of them breathless and battered. The earlier sense of relief Steve had felt became a knot of unease as he was forced to think about the repercussions of his plan. This whole thing, this whole ordeal would be worth it. For the death of those agents, for Hennessy. For the safety of the country. 

A hot flash of betrayal swept through him. Greer. 

Steve felt bone-tired. He suppressed a shiver, recognizing an adrenaline crash. And this one was going to suck.

***

Danny sat beside Steve trying to catch his breath. After hours of anxiety and nervous energy. It was finally over.

Except it didn’t feel that way. And how long before they ran up against another foreign power or spy-ring that used brainwashing and torture from sci-fi movies to gain the upper-hand? And how many more times would Steve put himself out on the line to catch them, use himself as bait for the greater good?

Steve shuddered beside him. The cocoon hanger was cold and Steve was wet. Despite his lingering anger and worry, Danny couldn’t let Steve catch pneumonia. 

Junior and Tani had begun going over the scene to coordinate with forensics. Members of HPD lingered in the corridor of the cocoon room, giving them space. And while Steve had remembered Danny’s name and cracked jokes, the man had been subjected to a science experiment from hell. 

“Hey.” Danny looked over at Steve. “Where are your clothes?”

Steve stared at him in confusion and the hair along the back of Danny’s neck stood on end. “The clothes you were wearing tonight. Where are they?”

“I…” Steve forehead crinkled in thought. “I don’t remember.”

Wrong answer. Danny was hit by a fresh wave of anxiety. “That’s it. You’re going to the hospital.” 

Lou, who had been standing close by, pulled out his radio.

“Hey, wait,” Steve said. “I don’t remember because they drugged me on the dock. I woke up wearing this awful thing.”

Lou looked from Steve to Danny, hesitating.

Steve glared at Lou then back at Danny. “I don’t need a hospital.”

“You just admitted that you were drugged.” Danny didn’t mention Wo Fat, or the last time Steve had been conked out of his gourd. 

Steve had that look in his eyes. Pure, determined willfulness. “It was a sedative. It’s the same thing they gave me before they put me in the tank. I think it’s one of the reasons why the sensory deprivation was so effective on the others.”

“Which means it affected you too,” Lou pointed out.

Steve forced himself to his feet. He had a wild look about him. His face was battered and bruised, his body coiled tight. He breathed heavy and ragged. “It’s out of my system.”

“Steve,” Lou said in empathy. 

“When have you ever seen me turned down medical treatment?” Steve looked doggedly between Lou and Danny. “I may have insisted on accelerated recovery times, but I would never put any of you or myself in danger because…”

“Hey, it’s okay. Stand down.” Danny had never seen Steve so agitated about going to the ER. “Look. We care about you, all right? Let’s get you some warm clothes. First. Okay? Hey, look at me. Okay?”

The tension in Steve’s shoulders lessened and he released a shaky breath. He was visibly trembling now and Danny wasn’t sure if it was from drugs, cold, or exhaustion. But Steve needed out of that fucking suit and into something dry.

Lou put down the radio and, after sharing a look with Danny, relented to his lead. “I’ll go find something for you to change into.”

Placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder, Danny guided him back toward the corner. He spoke in a soft, calming tone. “Hey. Relax. I know it’s hard, I know you just went through a knock-down, drag-out fight, but you’re safe now.”

“I know. I’m….I’m sorry.” 

Steve seemed to deflate a little and his shivering increased. Danny started to re-think the whole trip to the ER. But Steve was less agitated; he seemed to be tracking and obeying simple commands.

“Look, I just…I want to go home and sleep in my own bed. And I don’t want to submit to tests and prodding after what was already a very long lab experiment.”

“I get it.” Danny really did. And he trusted Steve to know his mind and body’s limits. Being trapped inside a sensory deprivation tank did not go hand-in-hand with Mr. Steve _I Have To Be In Control At All Times_ McGarrett.

Lou returned with a pair of HPD sweatpants and a t-shirt. “I found a place where you can change.” He bent down and whispered in Danny’s ear. “Avoid that lab room. Junior and Tani found…something.”

Nodding, Danny guided Steve away from the cocoon room, and hopefully one step further away from this nightmare.

***

The room was nothing more than a storage closet with alight. But Danny appreciated the privacy. 

He stood by as Steve pulled the zipper down of the front of his suit. And he stood by as Steve struggled to peel it off from his body. Because the one thing Danny knew Steve needed right now was a sense of control.

Danny bit his lip in realization that someone had stripped Steve’s clothes off of him, had put him in this awful thing while he’d been unconscious. The thought of such personal violation made his blood boil. 

Danny stood quietly as Steve leaned on him when his balanced faltered. He steadied Steve with a soft, but firm hand on his shoulder as he pulled on a pair of sweat pants over his naked body. And without a word, Danny helped him with the HPD t-shirt. 

Danny started the thankless task of collecting the orange suit for evidence. 

Steve’s teeth still chattered and it made Danny’s heart ache. “I’m going to find a jacket or something. Stay here and out of trouble.”

***

The irony of worrying about Steve wasn’t lost on Danny as EMTs wheeled two injured lab techs out of a room on gurneys and two others had already been zipped-up in body bags.

He could only imagine the kind of violence a confused Steve McGarrett could inflict when motivated by fear and adrenaline. 

“Hey,” Tani said as Danny tried to wave down an officer to get a coat for Steve. 

Danny was a man on a mission. A mission that was derailed as soon as he saw the horrific thing that Junior was trying unsuccessfully to put into an evidence bag. 

“Is that…?” Danny swallowed against the bile in his throat. He stared at a mask from out of some horror film. One without eyes holes or a way to breathe except….

“We think that’s how the oxygen tubes were fitted,” Junior pointed at the holes at the end of the grotesque thing.

“I’ll read about it later,” Danny growled. 

It all started to make sense now. Because Steve had been right. Sensory deprivation tanks were a fad now. His nutty-granola neighbor used one once a month to relief stress. But if you were drugged and every inch of your skin was covered by rubber and your eyes, nose, and ears were sealed shut….

Snatching a windbreaker from one of the officers, Danny hurried back toward Steve. Screw this place. They were getting out of here.

***

Alarms bells sounded inside Danny’s head when Steve went toward the passenger side of the car instead of insisting of driving. A thrum of worry beat behind his heart as Danny turned the heat inside the car on full blast. Steve didn’t even have any shoes. A member of HPD had lent him some flip-flops.

Steve huddled in his jacket, arms wrapped around himself. After ten minutes his eyelids started dropping, but he jerked himself awake and stared out through the windshield like it held the answers to the universe.

Danny did his best to keep to the speed limit. 

***

Eddie greeted them at the door. It was perfect timing. Steve played with the dog, scratching behind his ears, then he headed toward the guest bathroom. 

“You gonna take a shower?” Danny asked. 

Steve stopped in his tracks, the muscle in his jaw jumping. “No. Just gonna wash my face and brush my teeth.”

Danny was caught with wanting to keep an eye on Steve and making dinner. They needed sustenance, but worry wormed through his heart. 

Would Steve have issues about water for a while? That would be heartbreaking. 

Steve poked his head out from behind the door. Soap suds lingered over one side of his face. “I’m fine. I’m not going to freak out taking a shower. I just…I needed to get rid of the Gutta Percha.” He sighed. “I’ve had enough of water for one day.”

“Yeah, okay.” Danny reached over and slowly brushed the lingering suds from Steve’s face. “You, um, missed a spot.”

Steve’s eyes watched Danny intently, the weight of his gaze made Danny cough. “I’m going to make food.”

Eddie followed Steve to the sofa, breaking the rules by jumping onto it, snuggling with Steve as if he could sense Steve’s lingering stress. 

Danny went to the kitchen to find something easy to his fix, his heart thudding in his chest. Steve hadn’t said much during the drive over and Danny wasn’t going to push him...yet. But he knew Steve, knew how fast those walls came up. He had one window of opportunity.

After heating up the remains of a pot of beef and barley soup from the other day, Danny brought two large bowls over and set them on the coffee table. “Here I know the last thing you ate was a sandwich about ten hours ago. And this is easy on the stomach.”

Steve stared at the bowl then back up at Danny, his face scrunched up in perplexity. “You didn’t have to. I’m fine.”

“I reheated the contents that another chef slaved over days ago. It wasn’t a Herculean effort. Promise.”

Eddie lay on the sofa, his head in Steve’s lap. Steve rubbed at his flank. “Thanks, Danny.” 

Danny pointed at the untouched bowl. “Thank me by eating.”

But Steve sat and huddled in his borrowed windbreaker, his gaze off in the distance. 

Chewing on his lip, Danny laid a hand on Steve’s knee. “Babe—"

“It was really loud when I got out. Like I could hear every stupid piece of humming equipment. Hear every bone I broke. And everything smelled like a hospital. And I…,” Steve shook his head. “It was just a little overwhelming at first…like I was on speed or something. I’m sorry for you know…earlier. I just…I needed everything to be back to normal.”

Danny squeezed Steve’s knee. “We look after each other, that’s what we do. Even when I know one of your plans is going to go off the rails. Because I worry about you, I worry that you think about everyone else’s well-being over your own. And I’m not talking about your training. If anyone could survive floating around in the water without sensing their environment, it’s you. But like I said this morning, it doesn’t always have to be.”

Steve’s gaze drifted down to his hands, to his fingers rubbing Eddie’s soft fur. Danny wondered if Steve even realized the comfort he was seeking from the dog’s soothing presence.

Danny scooted closer to Steve, touching Steve’s too-cold wrist. “I’m sorry about, Greer.”

Steve’s body stiffened and he looked at the wall. His voice brittle. “I trusted her.” He snorted. “Fuck…how many times I have said that. How many…?” 

“Steve…”

“Trust is fundamental, Danny. It’s hard fought, it’s absolute. It has to be earned, forged. In battle, in the field...in life.” Steve took a shuddering breath. “It should be sacred.”

“It _is_ sacred. Your trust in me is sacrosanct.” 

Steve stilled at Danny’s words. He stared at Danny like he did after the tank, after Wo Fat’s torture chamber, like he did in the back of a truck in North Korea. And dozens of other times. Like he didn’t deserve someone who cared about him as much as he cared about friends or even strangers. 

It broke Danny in two. He swallowed, gripping Steve’s wrist like a lifeline. “Your trust, the trust between us. It’s unbreakable.”

Steve exhaled a stuttering breath. He looked at Danny like he was the most precious thing in the world. “Yeah, it is.” He licked his lips, his long eyelashes both beautiful and distracting. “Always.”

“I’m sorry about Greer and Catherine and your mother and everyone else who has ever violated your trust. But that does not mean you’re not worth working hard to gain and keep it. You’re much more than a tool or a weapon. And you will always be more than just a means to an end for me.” Danny rubbed the pad of his thumb over Steve’s palm. “I will destroy anyone who ever tries to hurt you.”

Danny never took taking a life for granted, but he did not regret for one second killing Kang.

Steve’s bewilderment slowly gave way to something sweet and tender. Adjectives usually not associated with a person who could still kill after being abused and drugged. “Danny….”

“I love you, too, babe.” Danny pulled Steve into a fierce hug. He wrapped his arms around his broad shoulders, held him tight, and pressed the side of his face against Steve’s. “I love you,” Danny said, kissing his cheek. Rubbing his hand down Steve’s back.

And Steve clung to him. Pulling Danny even closer, making a snuffling sound in Danny’s ear. A sound of affection and relief and just…giving in. “Danny.”

Steve didn't say another word. He didn’t need to. Danny held him until Steve slowly relaxed. Danny rubbed soothing circles between Steve’s shoulder blades until those relaxed, too. 

Steve started to become a heavy lump against Danny. “You’re going to fall asleep like this, babe. And I’m okay with that. But how about eating the soup I spent hours making, huh?”

Steve laughed and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. “Yeah, okay.”

Sitting back, Danny took his own bowl of soup, ignoring Eddie’s whine and soaking in Steve’s hum of contentment as he ate. 

And when they finished dinner, Danny would continue to work on erasing Steve’s bewilderment anytime he realized he was being cared for. That Steve could actually be a source of such affection. 

And Danny would make damn sure that feeling loved and valued was normal and not an anomaly. Because Steve deserved it and Danny deserved basking in a shared joy together. 

***

fini-


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